Ideas to inspire the super in all teachers (even on days we don't feel like heroes)

Tag: teaching

With the first day of school just around the corner, the end-of-summer-overwhelm is here. In front of you lies a plethora of planning and preparing, sharpening and stacking, cleaning and copying. All tasks that need to, and will (yes will), get done before students arrive.

Yet, in addition to the tasks, there is something just as important to be thinking about. It’s something that the best teachers do. You know it when you see it, but it can be hard to plan for. Before I tell you what it is, let me tell you about my mistake. I sure don’t want you to repeat it!

The Mistake

A couple of years in to teaching, I thought I was doing OK. Lesson plans, grading system, behavior management – check, check, and check. That’s when a school counselor pulled me aside. I hadn’t gone to her; awkwardly, she had the need to come to me.

One of my students wanted to get out of my class. It wasn’t the subject-area, or the difficulty, or the other kids in the class; it was me. She acts like a robot, he said, she never shows any feelings.

I was immediately defensive and bewildered. Here I was, trying so hard to get it all “done” and get it all “right”, and now I had to share myself too! When I calmed down though, I started thinking about the successful teachers at my school. You know, the ones that everyone, from students to families to administration, loves.

The Solution

What were they doing that I wasn’t? How were we so different? What I discovered was that my student was right! These highly effective teachers didn’t stop at lesson plans and behavior management. They also shared their themselves and their humanness. In return, the students responded in ways that I wasn’t experiencing.

Three Examples

Share a Skill

One of my most admired middle school colleagues shares herself through her knowledge of origami. During down time in math class, she talks about the connection between math and the art of paper folding. From there, she teaches her students how to make paper cranes, which are then delivered around campus on special occasions. One fortunate day, I was visited with the gift of a colorful, hand-crafted bird. Along with the delivery came pride-filled, and motivated, students. It was evident that, because their teacher had shared her humanness, these children had come to see themselves as mathematicians, artists, and givers.

Share a Story

An elementary teacher (who I secretly wish I could be!) shares herself in a different way. She told me the story of a student who was recently challenged by state testing. Sitting at the computer, hands still, tears welled up in his eyes. Instead of just telling him to keep going she told him a story, about herself. Recounting her own childhood test-anxiety, this teacher shared how stomach-achy and nerve-racking testing days had been for her; but that she had survived. Then, out to recess he went. You know what happened? The student came back in, sat right down, and typed his essay. This teacher’s willingness to share her humanness inspired perseverance in her young student, in a way that just telling him to try harder never could have.

Share a Passion

There’s a special education teacher that I look up to. Students who go through his classroom face numerous challenges, at school and at home. Now this teacher is an avid cyclist. He gets places faster by bike than I do by car. It’s one of his loves. A few years ago, he had some students that needed movement, and a lot of it. Instead of telling them to settle down, or making them sit at their desks doing tiny exercises, this teacher brought a stationary bike to the classroom. When his students needed a break they could cycle for a few minutes, and then rejoin the group. Through his passion he shared his humanness, and met the needs of his students on their terms.

Your Turn

As you spend these last few days getting ready, please remember not to get so caught up (like I did) in the doing that you forget about who you are as a being. As your primping your room, and priming your lessons, make sure to ponder how you will share your humanness on the first day, and throughout the year.

You never know who you might help by sharing a little bit of yourself! Have an idea about expressing your humanness in the classroom? Write it in the comments.

Like this:

When I was in middle school I decided to be a special education teacher, and I never let go of that dream. Fifteen years ago I took the first step into my own classroom.

Since then I’ve learned an infinite number of lessons. You don’t have infinite time though, so I boiled them down to the fifteen most important things you should know as a special education teacher. These tips will help you survive and thrive! Click here to read them on Think Inclusive where I guest posted. It must be a worthwhile read because it’s been shared over 4,500 times!

@misssgtpickels made this beautiful infographic based on what I wrote. I was completely honored to see the time and effort she put in. I wish I had thought of it!

Not familiar with Think Inclusive? Their motto is “Tomorrow is Too Long to Wait for Inclusion”. Their site is packed with easy-to-read, thought provoking information and inclusive resources.

Have more tips for special education teachers? Leave a comment here or at the bottom of my Think Inclusive post.

Have a question about being a special educator? Drop me a note by filling out the Contact Me form below. I promise to get back to you ASAP.

Like this:

Day 3 of Blogging 201

Today Blogging 201 asks us to look at our blogs across multiple devices. Doing so helps us make sure all audiences receive friendly content. This makes me think of the art classes I have taken. Good artists look at their pieces up close, and from across their room. They do this to get a sense of what their patrons will experience and to gain perspective on their work.

In K-12 classrooms, we also have students engage in “gallery walks”. This may be to look at 2D art but it can be in other subject areas as well. Students share writing, posters of their math work, and their Science experiments. Walking around the classroom gives them new perspective on their work, and lets them know what their peers are doing.

Like this:

This post is about wondering and ways to support emergent multilinguals (aka English learners) in their writing development.

“I wonder…”

If you’re reading this, it’s safe to say that you know what wondering is. I’m sure you’ve even spent some time doing it. Somehow, along the way, you learned its deep nuances. You know that there’s a little bit of questioning, but not challenge. It’s kind of like pondering but with less drawn-out-thought. When you Google something you wonder about, you’re satisfied with the Wikipedia answer. No further research needed. In the act of wondering our eyes tilt upward, maybe a finger touches the face just below the corner of the mouth. Adults use “wonder” when they are trying to be non-confrontational, leading someone down a path of inquiry. And sometimes it has an ethereal quality. That child-like sprinkle of excitement.

The Assignment

When I received the assignment “An Invitation to Wonder” from Kate Messner I was thrilled. First off, it was an easy thing to start with. All we had to do was write a list of things we wondered about. Maybe, one day, they would even turn into seed ideas for a longer piece. Secondly, it brought me back to something I had long forgotten about. The time I galumphed my way through this exercise with students, many of whom were emergent multilinguals.

Forays into Writer’s Workshop

It was my first foray into teaching writer’s workshop. I was all about idea generation. Listing what we wondered about seemed like a perfect beginning. It was open-ended and student-centered. There was no wrong answer. And there was the enthralling chance that we might end up using our wonderings as research topics. What more could a teacher want?!

And then I felt the disquieting stares. Pencils didn’t move. Bodies were still. Notebooks remained vacant. No writing happened.

Now this wasn’t because my students didn’t know how to wonder. Perhaps they were learning English in addition to having a home language, but it’s not like they didn’t have the trappings of a childhood mind. You know, the curiosity that flits about even during school hours. That wasn’t the issue at all. My students could, and did, wonder. The problem was that they really had no idea what Iwas asking of them, or how to accomplish it

I had made the assumption that if I told them to write what they wondered, they would do just that. They’re kids, I thought, this will be easy. So I didn’t bother to build in the language scaffolds and supports that my emergent multilingual students needed. Because of that the lesson did not produce much writing. Looking back, there is a lot I would have done differently. Here are three ways I would have changed my lesson:

1. A lesson without examples is no lesson at all

You’re probably face-palming right now because this is so obvious. How many times have you been told that all students, and especially those learning an additional language, need examples? But at the time I was taking a writer’s-workshop-stab-in-the-dark. I didn’t know a lot, and I didn’t know who to turn to. So I tried using old methods to teach new things. If I say it, they will do it.

What I realized is that young writers need strong, student-centered, linguistic examples. I should have modeled how I wondered about winning video-games, about how to get a new skateboard, about if I could have an over-night with my friend. I could have wondered about bigger things too. The problem was, I hadn’t planned for wonder-modeling. I didn’t demonstrate the language we use when we wonder. So while my students did wonder, they didn’t have the language scaffolds needed to record their wonderings in writing, in English. If I had a do-over I would include linguistically simple as well as linguistically complex examples, and highlight the language of wondering.

2. Lost in translation

Students with emerging English skills often bring rich language resources to their new learning. Translation can unlock some of these resources. However, we need to be intentional in finding translation that conveys meaning. For instance, Google translates “wonder” from English to “preguntarse” (ask yourself) in Spanish. “Yet if you type in “maravilla” in Spanish you get “wonder” in English. Even better would be “maravillarse” which is a verb that translates as “to marvel” or “to wonder”. You can see how the deep meaning changes.

When I clunked my way through that lesson I didn’t plan for unlocking the meaning of “wonder” through translation. Doing so would have quickly and fluidly pulled the curtain back on the nuances that “wonder” conveys. This would have allowed my students to focus on the task of idea generation instead of trying to figure out what I was asking of them. I could have quickly started with Google translate and then double-checked other resources. The search I did for this post took about five minutes. Those few minutes could have made a big difference to my students.

3. All language is meaning-filled

As I mentioned, many students who are learning English bring rich, existing language to their school-experience. Leveraging these competencies is critical. One way to do this is by letting students know their home-language is a resource, just as English is. When crafting our list of wonderings, I should have created an environment where students knew they could write in whatever language they felt most comfortable with.

Doing this is key for a couple of reasons. First, it would have allowed my students to focus on the lesson’s goal: idea generation. By lowering the cognitive load of learning English, we could have gotten to the core of what we needed to do as writers. Second, highlighting home language as a resource honors students as people and as writers. It conveys the idea that all voices are important, and need to be heard. Now, keep in mind that I would not have forced students to write in a home language. I just would have created the atmosphere where students knew they could. Doing so would have provided the safety and scaffolding that some may have needed to begin writing.

My Wondering List

In the interest of modeling, here is a wondering list I wrote for Teachers Write! And, by the way, it’s this wondering list that led me to write this post.

How do I start and keep a writing practice going?

Why do people want to write?

How can I spend time writing and keep my commitments to my profession, my self, my family, and my friends all alive and well?

Does loving to write make me an introvert?

Is that a bad thing?

What does it mean to be a teacher-writer?

How do I share with my students my own worries about writing so that they feel comfortable sharing theirs?

Like this:

Have you ever considered being a teacher-writer? You have some stories to tell but haven’t shared them yet. Maybe you wrote a lot for your credential (masters/Ph.D.) but then life got in the way, so you stopped. Perhaps without an “assignment” it’s been hard to know what to write about. Or maybe you’re already a teacher-writer, looking to explore what others are doing. If any of that is true, then you’ve come to the right set of posts. This is where I’ll share my journey about being a teacher-writer, during the Teachers Write! course by author Kate Messner.

As a new blogger my summer has been drenched in writing. It’s scary and invigorating, exciting and frustrating. I’ve learned a ton and been proud of where I’ve gotten to. In three weeks I’ve created a functional blog and participated in three writing assignments: Blogging 101, Tuesday Slice of Life Challenge, and now Teachers Write! Each has given me something different. While I’ve come farther than I ever thought I would, I have so far to go.

Teachers Write! is a particular challenge because it focuses on fiction. This is a huge divergence from my life in academia. That said I’m having fun, getting to know new authors, and improving my skills. As a teacher I am learning what it’s like to be a student who is out of her comfort zone. I’m also focused on considering what I would do to scaffold these lessons for students, particularly those learning English as an additional language. As a writer, being in a new genre is bound to add to my existing academic writing and blogging repertoire.

When you read posts in this category you’ll join my journey in being a teacher-writer. Together we can consider what it means to be a teacher-writer, how being a teacher-writer affects writing instruction, and how to make a writing practice available to all students.

Like this:

If you’ve found my blog you’ve likely noticed the tag line. I wrote it to resonate with you, the teacher reading this. But I also wrote it for myself. You see I wanted to remind us all that even when we don’t feel like we’re doing an amazing job, it’s likely we’re still doing great things. And we need to be certain of that fact.

When I first started teaching I lived in constant fear of being found out. I was terrified that someone was going to walk into my room and see that I really was a horrible teacher after-all. Who is this woman, they would say, and why in the world did we hire her?!

Too much uncertainty will deplete you.

It’s not that reality substantiated these fears. No, the opposite was true. My colleagues were complimentary. The principal wanted me to increase my time. My job was secure. I even received a couple of award nominations from students. Together these things seem like they would show a person she is successful. However, I just couldn’t be certain. And this uncertainty left me depleted and distracted.

Now, I’m sure some of this is just my personality (yes, I can be a bit self-critical). But I also believe this is a commonality in our profession. I say this because I’ve seen it so many times. Some in tears, unsure of their abilities as they blamed themselves for a lesson gone wrong. Others questioning if the principal really thought they were doing a good job. Usually these comments came from the most respected teachers. People who I, and others, aspired to be like.

Your quest to improve doesn’t implicate lacking.

Of course taking responsibility, and being on a quest to constantly improve, is a good thing. It’s part of being a great teacher. If we think we have arrived, it’s a sure sign that we haven’t. But it’s a fine line between questioning one’s abilities and reaching for more. The former tends to get in our way, while the latter is a propelling force.

It wasn’t that long ago when I finally realized that advancing my practice does’t have to be based in uncertainty and self-criticism. Instead, I can be both confident in my current capacity and still endeavor to be better. When this finally settled inside of me, my teaching changed. I became lighter. People actually told me I looked younger. Having fun while learning became more of a goal. Taking risks to try new things felt invigorating. And all of this rubbed off on my students.

Savor your wins and build from there.

Too often, in school, learning how to do something means there was a time we weren’t good at it. While there may be truth to this, it’s time to switch the paradigm. I no longer believe it’s productive to concentrate on what might be missing, on the things we aren’t sure about. Instead we need to focus on our/our student’s strengths. Let’s savor our wins and build from there.

As I end my first year of being in a new position, I realize that I truly did let go of my fear of being found out. Although I had many moments of being nervous about doing well, and I constantly sought to improve, I didn’t doubt myself in the same way. Instead I moved through the year with a slice of certainty. And that slice had a sweet taste indeed!

Like this:

We have a special code at my house for “good job”. Step in the door with a high grade, a win, or any other action worthy of commendation, and you’ll receive the exclamation “Bad Addis!” (I’m sure you get the euphemism). But it didn’t start that way. When I first heard “Bad Addis” it really meant, “You’ve done a badjob Mrs. Addis”.

During my decade-plus as a special education teacher I had the fortune of working with teenagers, many of whom communicated in their own ways. Some used their words, some used their drawings, and some used their bodies. Throughout the year I would become attuned to their modes of expression. And along the way I would discover both who my students were, and who I was. I would also discover that mistakes aren’t the end, they are the beginning (@34:19).

The event that sparked our family saying involved an angry, frustrated student. I can’t even remember why, so it must have been something small in my mind. Obviously it was something big in his. As a student of few words, he shared his sentiments by turning his back to me. Then he walked to a corner where a study carrel joined the wall, and stayed there.

I was doing the best I could.

Imagining myself the consummate behaviorist I was not going to “pick up the rope”. Instead, I would ignore his actions. And that’s how I found myself in the middle of a power struggle. He with his back turned, and me acting as if this was a regular school day. The more I ignored, the more he tried to get my attention, the more I ignored. And so we went, with little resolution. In hindsight this does seem a bit absurd, but in the moment I was doing the best I could.

As things progressed neither of us was satisfied. I really wanted to get him back on track, right then. He really wanted me to react. I know this because with the passing moments his behavior heightened. It began with surreptitious glances in my direction, ramped up to verbal accusations of “Bad Addis”, and crescendoed with declarations of “F*ck Addis”. Honestly I don’t even remember how the situation ended. Rest assured though, we do still have a positive relationship.

I felt it was a statement of my ability as a teacher.

Needless to say I ended that day deflated. Not only had I failed to teach my student, but I felt like all my training and expertise had left me twisting in the wind. I was confronted with my lacking and felt it was a statement of my ability as a teacher. At the time, growth mindsethadn’t hit the scene. I had no idea that mistakes are part of learning. I didn’t know that all successful people make mistakes, learn from them, and try again. I didn’t have the words to say to myself, “I’m not good at this yet, but one day I will be better”. Instead I settled with “Boy do I suck!”.

After school I dragged myself home, hoping for some no-holds-barred sympathy. I imagined group hugs, and pats on the back, and lots of “It’s OKs”. At the dinner table I asked my family, “Wanna hear what happened today?” “Sure” they replied, with that questioning inflection that means not really but I’m trying to be polite. Deep into the story, as soon as I machine-gunned the phrase “Bad Addis” they burst into laughter. Actually it was more like doubled-over, belly aching, guffaws. No sympathy, just unabashed merriment at my expense. It was then that I finally saw the humor of my day, and I realized the gift my student had given me.

In that moment of laughter I was proud of myself.

I discovered in that moment of laughter that I was proud of myself, and proud of my student. I knew then that we had both tried our best, albeit in clunky unproductive ways, to communicate our needs. Both of us human, and both of us wanting something positive from the other. Me wanting him to learn, and him wanting me to acknowledge his frustration. And I also realized that we were both “Bad Addis!” for giving it our all. Even if I wasn’t a hero that day, I had put in the effort. Tomorrow would be another chance to do better.

So the next time you don’t get it right put your hands on your hips, relish that power stance, and declare that you too are “Bad Addis!” Tomorrow will come and you will have another chance to pour your heart in, just as you did today. Only you will do so having learned a little in the process.